Red Roses Black
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2/28/2008 12:19:57 PM
My adventures in music. Nobody ever walks away.
So how did everyone here get into music in the first place?
Did you just wake up one day out of a deep sleep on the corner of the road with an instrument in hand and a hat on the sidewalk full a change, thinking hmmmm?
Did aliens come down from the heavens, and inform you of a dual choice. One being made a guinea pig in their worst galactic experiments. And the other being, play music?
Or did a super evolved race come back from the future explaining that you and your music are the basis of everything in their super advanced and totally righteous society?
What happened to me was a funny story. In a past life I was raised as a warrior for Sparta. Like most of my peers, I trained day and night to become the ultimate soldier for Sparta. But eventually I started to fall behind, unhappy about my pre-chosen lifestyle. While my brothers beside me dreamt of battle and victory, I dreamt of the sound the wind makes as it passes through the high grass that was native to our country. Which made my superiors worry. There had never been a lackluster spartan in the history of their rein and being the proud nation they were, they weren't going to start with me. So, being good with my hands, they assigned me to apprentice with a blacksmith that would repair the damaged weapons. This was a little bit more interesting to me. I began discovering music in my work. I would bang the dented shields and swords back into position at a rhythm all the while swinging my hips in pure enjoyment of what I was creating. Eventually a locally famous musician was walking by our workshop when he heard all the racket I was making. He instantly took notice, and paid the blacksmith a large some of money to take me on as his musical apprentice! I was gleaming. I had gone from spartan warrior to poorly blacksmith, to musicians apprentice. Maybe there was a fate after all? Day and night the musician taught me everything he knew about music. I progressed quickly and enthusiastically. Eventually we were selling out the great venues of our time, with a highlight show in Rome at the middle time of the famous gladiator battles. The crowed weeped in the music we created and we were infinitely successful. Years passed and our fame grew, but the musician was growing old, and eventually passed away. Leaving me to continue our works. I continued to work, and work hard, becoming one of the most famous musicians the world had ever seen, playing for kings, emperors, and millions of on lookers. I become so famous that I was allowed into secret clubs and societies, the likes of which dabbled in the mystical. My fame afforded me great wealth and great connections. In my journeys I came across an old priestess, who saw me to be a great giver, a giver that could continue giving on into future lives. She handed me a vile, and explained that should I drink this vile on my death bed, I would transfer all my memories to future lives, so that I might continue to learn and create for the benefit of the world. Being the somewhat arrogant famous person, (I was a young soul at the time) I gawked at the women, but kept the vile anyways. There had been things I had seen that were unexplainable to me and I wasn't about to take chances with pride. I continued on my success for a couple years until, during a routing trip to Rome for an annual performance, my caravan was raided by thieves. In the shuffle I was struck with an arrow in what I was sure a fatal area of my abdomen. I was filled with anger for what had happened, such a trivial way to die for the clearly superior person I was. Before I gasped my last breath, I swallowed the vile, hoping the women was telling the truth. My life faded from this world, the life I had known was gone. only black.
I'll continue my story, in my next blog if people are interested in hearing my entirely true story of how I found music, and how it has stayed with me through the generations.
I apologize for my lack of spelling and grammar.
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